


Dreams and Nightmares

by Scrawlix



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 02:59:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4084048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrawlix/pseuds/Scrawlix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve never dreamt before. When he started to dream, it always turned to nightmares. Nightmares not of monsters but of those he cared about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams and Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know. Not very original. Just pointless sad fluff. Hasn't been beta'd.

Steve rarely dreamt. It was the privilege of the serum. Or just who he was as a person. He could never recall dreaming before the serum. Not before or during the war - even during his seventy year slumber it was nothing but a black, timeless stretch. One moment his eyes were open and he was careening towards the ocean and the next, he was in a white room, listening to a baseball game on a radio. 

The first time he had had a dream, he only remembered scraps of it. Big brown eyes, glossy with tears, her voice was wordless but the sound made him believe she was pleading. He had known those eyes. It had been Peggy. Her pain had scared him, tortured him. 

The second time he had dreamt, it was brown eyes again. Big brown eyes fringed with short black lashes that were clumped with tears. There was the cloying stink of blood stuck to the back of his throat and even long after waking, there was still the taste of it on his tongue no matter how much he scrubbed his teeth or how much coffee he drank. The sound of the world crumbling, of violence and death seemed to steal the words out of his mouth. His pain was a reflection of his and it took his breath away, leaving him gasping for air as he burst out of the nightmare like a drowning man breaking the water's surface.

After that dream, he began to dread sleep. Sometimes when he fell asleep, he didn't dream. Othertimes, he did. There was never a way to predict when they came. 

It was strange, though. When he thought about it the dreams there was nothing particularly violent about them. There was nothing that reflected his past which was where he had expected nightmares to find their fuel from. He was no stranger to listening to others tell him their dreams. 

Tony's were particularly violent and often the same thing over again. He would wrap his arms around his shaking shoulders and pull him back down into the pillows, listening as the brilliant man spoke about being swallowed up by the black hole and never returning. Just drifting through space, bereft. Sometimes, Obie was there to torture him like some demented demon. Sometimes, it was his father's sneering face as he told him he would never be good enough. He would scream and scream and scream and no one would find him, no one would come for him. There'd only be Obie's and Howard's cruel laughter to keep him company until he could finally gain control enough to throw himself out of the dream. 

When Steve dreamt, it was always a nightmare but there were never monsters. The monsters in his past had always been conquered or vanquished with varying degrees of ease and they rarely weighed on his conscience. 

After a particularly pleasant day spent curled up on a bench in Tony's workshop, watching him tinker with projects and throw things at his bots when they misbehaved. They had bantered back and forth over the sounds of Led Zepplin's greatest hits which ended when Tony lost his patience and ended the argument with a welcome distraction. Tony grabbed the book Steve had been trying to read and threw it carelessly over his shoulder before straddling his lap. This was usually how he ended an argument that he knew that he was losing. He kissed the blond soundly, effectively silencing him. The sex was amazing. Sometimes, like in this case, it was fast, teasing and playful. They laughed and kissed, nipping at each other's skin in attempts to make the other moan or lose control which was always Steve. 

After they were done, Tony curled up against his broad chest and they would doze peacefully. But the nightmare chased away the satiation, the fear scrabbling in his chest like some dark, insidious creature. Steve woke with a shout, his legs and arms kicking out. He dropped back on the couch as he tried to orient himself. "I'm here, Steve," Tony called out. His eyes scanned the workshop, the fear building until he found Tony leaning into a gold and red boot, soldering.

His fingers itched to touch him. Steve stood on shaky legs and made his way towards Tony. He dropped to his knees in front of him, wrapping his arms around the other's waist and laying his head in his lap. "I'm not going anywhere." Tony said softly, lacing his free hand through Steve's wheat blond hair.

"It's always the same." He rubbed a flushed cheek against Tony's careworn jeans.

"Nightmares of me, huh?"

"Don't leave me, Tony." The words came from that desperate part of him that clung to the familiarity of Tony's body like he was a life raft. "You were in pain and I couldn't get to you. You got angry with me and then you started to hate me."

Putting the soldering tool down carefully, he reached down and cupped Steve's face to lift it off his lap. Gently, he kissed the tears that fell from his eyes. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll never, ever leave you."

"You don't know that…"

"Please. I'm Tony Stark. I know everything." The man said, giving his lover his trademark cocky smirk. Strangely, this comforted Steve like nothing else. Tony's swagger and his unfaltering certainty that could never be dimmed.

"I love you." Steve whispered, looking into those laughing, bright brown eyes.

For now, this was enough.


End file.
